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waiting

I hate that your baseless opinions still have an impact on my taste. I hate that I let your judgment and shallow outlook affect me, three years after we’ve stopped being friends.

Luckily, now I’m not the person that I used to be. I don’t need people to validate what I like, I don’t need everyone to think my music/fashion/tv tastes are cool. I like what I like because it’s ME, not because it’s what everyone else does.

You are the biggest hypocrite I know, and I can’t say I’m sorry we’re not friends anymore. You fucked with my life, and I’m glad you’re out of it now. I just hate that I can’t get away from it, still. You’re my inner critic. And I don’t need that.

It’s Darren Criss. And Matt Bomer. Singing Somebody That I Used to Know.

WHAT THE WHAT

ohmygoodness

aaaaaand it’s officially summer

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sometimes rainbows just show up in my life

or maybe because i’m crazy i just see them everywhere

does anyone else see what i’m talking about?

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so let me in

I want you to talk to me. I want to know what happened. If you hate my legs or you can’t stand my insufferably optimistic outlook or you don’t like the way i hold my pencil, I want to know that. Not so I’ll change it, just because I want to know. Something triggered you to end it, and I don’t care how big or small or stupid or irrational or jealous or whatever it was. I just. Want to know.

But I won’t, ever, because you’re you and you think communication is for pansies. Because you think you’re too awkward to talk about it. You’re not, if you try.

Just talk to me. (I know you won’t.) Please.

(Source: toxic-ponies, via burdge)

heartworm

dictionaryofobscuresorrows:

n. a relationship or friendship that you can’t get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.